


Three Hearts Beating.

by Twinwriter95



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:37:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twinwriter95/pseuds/Twinwriter95
Summary: Grief and hope. Battles won and lost. Lives rise and fall to dust. Three souls fighting on despite the tide against them. It is all they can do. A gift and tribute to Kate_Shepard because she writes the most mouth-watering ME poly fics on the internet. And since I know she LOVES Shakarian+ Victus as much as I do...8DFeedback is greatly appriciated since this is my first ME fanfic ever. Exscuse the Spelling errors and grammar, all mistakes are mine, this work is not beta read and the ME trilogy belongs to Bioware, of course. Enjoy!





	Three Hearts Beating.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kate_Shepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Trias](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806859) by [Kate_Shepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard). 



The Kodiak’s thrusters slowly stopped as it smoothly docked inside the Normandy's hangar. The shuttle’s doors opened only to reveal an ashen-faced Jane Shepard. The mission on Tuchanka had been a success, but at a heavy price.

The Primarch’s son was dead.

Garrus and Liara quietly stepped out of the vehicle followed by a stone-cold and-dead- silent Shepard. Garrus glanced worriedly at the blonde and blue-eyed woman that had in a few words become his whole world. To everyone else she was a commander, a hero, but to him she was his personal angel.  
He wanted nothing more than to comfort her; to wrap his arms around her and rumble that special purr into her ear; it never failed to make her laugh and smile. But he couldn’t, not now at least. She wouldn’t listen to him or anyone else right now. She was too deep into her guilt of not being able to save Adrien Victus’ son.

“Shepard?” Liara said quietly as she walked up to the human woman; a close friend she couldn’t bear to see suffering, because even if she appeared to be calm and collected, the mask was quickly starting to crack. And Liara knew this.  
The asari rested one of her blue hands on Shepard’s shoulder, who’d turned her back to everyone in the hangar.

“Shepard…You…did everything you could, but there was nothing you could have done to help or save Tarquin…”

Her words sounded empty; hollow. He knew they weren’t, he also knew that she was right, but to Shepard’s ears they would still carry very little weight. Garrus couldn’t help to wonder if Shepard was even listening to what her friend was trying to tell her.

“How can you say that, Liara?” Shepard’s sudden words where uncharacteristically cold.

Liara’s face slaked from shock.  
Garrus’s mandibles winded when a quiet gasp of surprise escaped.  
Shepard whirled around without warning.  
“How can you say that?!” She said, voice turning into a shout suddenly.

“S-Shepard I—“The Asari started to say but the suddenly livid Commander cut her off.

“Don’t you understand, Liara? Don’t you get it? I had him, Liara, I had him! But I slipped. I fucking slipped and dropped him! He was so young…”

Shepard’s shout sank to a whisper at the end, barely audible. The pain in her voice could almost be felt on one’s skin.

“Shepard…” One of Liara’s hands reached for the Commander, while the other one covered her own mouth.

“I understand that I can’t save everyone. I get that. But I had him, and to let him literally slip between my fingers… Do you know how that feels, Liara? To see someone fall to their death and you just stand there and even though you know you can’t turn back time that’s all you can wish for. I can’t help thinking that if I had just held on tighter or if he hadn’t listened to me to begin with he would still be alive. I could have and should have done more. So before you say anything at all that I did everything I could please don’t.”

And for a moment the strong mask was gone and her face seemed to age before everyone’s eyes. For one moment she wasn’t their commander or the hero tasked with the by all means impossible task of saving them all from what looked like certain extinction. For a moment they saw her vulnerable and damage and torn asunder.  
And that was just Spirits-be-damned wrong.

It wasn’t that she shouldn’t be allowed to show emotions, Spirits should know that she if anyone deserved a break or breather. As hard as it was to admit it to himself Garrus was just as surprised as everyone else.  
Shepard had fallen silent. She swallowed thickly, and for a moment Garrus was afraid that she would start doing that thing the humans called ‘crying’. He’d never seen her cry, and Spirits he didn’t want to. By some strange luck he didn’t need to, because Shepard abruptly turned on her heel and left, most likely to lock herself in solitude inside her cabin.

And no matter how much he’d like to take the elevator to her cabin and comfort her, he needed to deal with another problem, one just as emotionally loaded.  
He needed to inform the Primarch of his loss.

Not a small task either by any means, since the two Turians had grown pretty close from the months of fighting Reaper forces on Menae. That and the stress-relief that followed said fighting.  
Garrus believed himself to be a lot of things; he was a bad Turian. He was in love with a human. He was at least according to himself one damn good calibrator and sniper. There was one thing he wasn’t though, and that was a coward.

And yet the term had been very appropriate when he had messaged Shepard back on Earth while she was incarcerated and he was on Menae as a “Reaper Advisor” to help guide his battle-brothers and sisters against an enemy that was equivalent to the mythological titans.

He had paced around in the sleeping tent, equally excited as dread filled. A part of him had actually hoped that she wouldn’t be able to read the message. However to say that he was shocked and surprised when her reply didn’t hold any of that infamous human jealousy he’d heard so much about was an understatement.

All she’d care to ask about was if Victus was a good guy and if he’d be safe and taken care of, and Garrus would be lying if he said that his heart hadn’t been filled with an almost crushing affection for his commander and girlfriend when he’d read those words.

Some days Garrus couldn’t help but think that Shepard was a turian in human clothing…or was it skin that was the correct term? Humans and their weird speeches and word games…  
First obstacle removed he’d come to the second one that was just as nerve-tingling as the first.  
To ask the man himself.

Garrus was very glad for the slacker laws in the turian military and it wasn’t that he didn’t think he wouldn’t survive a month or two in a human squad or anything but he just wasn’t wired that way. Turians needed to let off steam more so than the other council species. So tumbling around with a fellow soldier or even general wasn’t something punishable. As long as it didn’t interfere with the mission.  
However, Victus was a known and respected name back on Palaven; a respected man, at least by the military. And even though he hadn’t proposed something uncommon, he hadn’t known if Victus rolled both ways like he himself did. Mistakes had happened in the past. Big, embarrassing ones.  
However, as he’d stood before the older turian, uncharacteristically twisting his three-fingered hands together nervously and amidst a sea of stammered nonsense he’d somehow gotten out that if Victus was maybe interested in some stress-relief he’d be up for it. As for the General himself he had just stood there with an amused glint in his eyes which had become more pronounced as he asked Garrus quietly to come to his tent after dinner.

He hadn’t been disappointed.

The moment he’d stepped inside of the General’s tent the older turian had started to nip at his neck with an arousing mixture of light and hard bites. It had instantly heated his skin and made his lower plates shift. Victus had been pent-up, not that Garrus blamed him; fighting Reapers was anything but relaxing.  
In the end Garrus had found himself bent over the General’s work desk with only his upper armour on, and being viciously pounded by an older, growling, grunting and more experienced Turian.

He was woken sharply from the warm, pleasant memory by the sudden chime from the elevator, and cold reality sank in which indicated that he’d reached his destination; The War Room were the newly stationed Primarch had to be. Garrus felt how a lump formed in his throat.

Taking in a deep breath to steady himself, Garrus walked inside the War Room. After a moment’s scanning the young sniper found him standing by his usual post by the console which sent continuous messages and reports from Palaven, and Garrus couldn’t help but wonder how the man got up from bed each morning, if the only thing he was ever showered with were death rates.  
He slowly walked over to the elder turian and discreetly cleared his throat.

“Sir?”

The new Primarch unhurriedly turned around before dipping his head into a nod. “Ah, Garrus. Something I can do for you?”

“Actually, Primarch, I need to speak with you. It’s…Important.” He finally managed to say through the lump in his throat. The discreet playfulness hidden in the other man’s well-trained eyes diminished slightly.

“Is it about the mission on Tuchanka? Where’s Tarquin? Is he alright?” Victus’s eyes stared at him, shining for a moment with the worry of a father which couldn’t be hidden by any mask.

Garrus didn’t have the willpower to reply and instead silently beckoned the other man to follow him into a darkened corner of the room. This wasn’t something just about everyone should know, out of respect for the man himself.

“What is going on, Vakarian?” The man demanded once they were both slightly covered in darkness. The only thing beside the contours that the young sniper could make out was the auric eyes lighting up in the monotone shadows like pin-points of sun-fire.

“Your son is…is…” It turned out to be very hard -almost impossible even- to find his voice, let alone speak. The situation felt suddenly so near, so heavy. And close. Too close. He wondered if having stress-relief with Victus had been such a good idea after all. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so hard…

“Is what? MIA? Dead?” the Primarch growled out, a hidden command in his voice.

Garrus throat was all of a sudden so dry that only a cracked sound escaped. His mandibles quivered. Without warning the Primarch snarled deeply, before shoving the younger general against the wall harshly.  
“Spirits be damned, tell me right now Garrus or I’ll…!” angry, hissing words turned into a pained noise. When he looked at Garrus again his eyes were filled with suffering. “Garrus don’t force me to look at the mission report. I’d rather hear it from you; from someone I…respect. Garrus—please!” The Primarch hissed out a cracked whisper into his ear canal. Garrus drew in a trembling breath at the sound of his friend’s shaking and weak subharmonics. He swallowed hard.

“Dead. He’s dead. We. Shepard…She…!” The words died suddenly in his throat, and he didn’t know what else to say when his mind went blank. Victus stumbled away from him but didn’t get far as his back hit the bulk of the ship, silently staring at the younger sniper with a gaze of such unguarded pain that he almost couldn’t look at the elder Turian for more than a few seconds at a time. Almost not at all.

“He’s…He’s gone.” The sudden hoarse words made him aware just how close the Primarch was to breaking down, but Spirits not here, anywhere but here!

Grabbing hold of the older man’s wrist on impulse and starting to drag him from the gloomy corner while muttering something about offering the other turian a drink, Garrus briskly made his way to the observation deck.

 

Garrus allowed a small relived sigh to escape as he closed the doors to the Starboard Observation deck. The room had always been quiet and calm even before they had enlisted Samara, but now it seemed that the atmosphere of tranquillity had increased tenfold thanks to the Justicar’s past presence in the room. And it also seemed that she had allowed it to stay even after she’d left the crew. The younger turian saw from the corner of his eye how the Primarch stood with his back to him, arm against the window and head in turn resting on it, gazing out into the star-filled void with an empty, hollowed out stare; almost as if he wasn’t looking out into space at all, instead seeing and hearing and living past moments and memories, most likely.  
Garrus wondered if Tarquin was filling his head. Of all the things Victus should have said and done. The praise his son never got to hear, but had so desperately needed. All of it left a bad taste in his mouth, even though he didn’t have any right to blame Victus.

Turians weren’t known to be all lovely-doddley with their children, after all. That being said, no father should ever need to bury his son…  
The urge to comfort finally overwhelmed him and Garrus briskly strode over to the older man and wrapped his arms around Victus from behind. He felt how Adrien stiffened at the sudden contact, and for a moment Garrus worried that he’d overstepped a line, however his worries seemed to have been for nothing because soon enough he felt how the tense body bundled against his chest relaxed.

For a while they just stood there in silence, the older turian trapped between the glass and a warm body. The Primarch’s tired mind finally gave in and let the memories of his son crash over him. Black pain, so intense it almost made him sick, flushed itself into his body in dark streams; he took in a slow, shuddering breath, but almost didn’t manage that as his lungs felt like they were filled with wet cement. He must have made some kind of noise, because he felt how Garrus thrilled out a soothing rumble. Adrian didn’t know whether to be annoyed or grateful, didn’t know whether to growl or cry.  
He suppressed a pained noise as a memory started to form…

 _“Daddy! Daddy!” 5 year old Tarquin exclaimed while insistently tugging on his father’s sleeve. The father in question had been quite busy simply relaxing and enjoying the sunset, being on leave, something he hadn’t had in many months._  
_He tore his eyes away from the slowly-sinking sun to address his son with a, “Yes Tarquin?”_

_His son raised his arms up, a silent indication that he wanted his father to pick him up. Adrien complied and lifted his son onto his lap, so the young child rested sideways over his knees. Victus once again leaned back into the sunlight, but after a few minutes he felt another series of insistent tugging on his tunic._

_Snorting out a breath, Adrien had looked down only to have a piece of paper pressed into his face. Befuddled, he'd taken the paper away to look at it._  
_He’d felt how his neck had flushed all the way to the sensitive patch of skin just below his fringe at the words that stood out like a neon-sign amidst all the scribbles and odd shapes of what was clearly Tarquin’s earnest try at portraits of them both._

_‘I LOVE DADDY! ‘It read with big letters in green crayon. The older Victus flushed once more as he read the words again, endeared by them. He shifted his eyes onto Tarquin, who was looking up at him with large, expecting green eyes, three-taloned hands in his lap._

_“It is very nice.” He commented simply. At the small insistent thrill from Tarquin he glanced down onto the picture again. “Are my mandibles really that big?”_  
_He gave a rumbling laugh at the prompt nod he got in return._

Victus could barely keep from keening as the warm memory faded away like fine mist and reality dug its cold unforgiving claws into him once more. His son, his Tarquin wasn’t home on Palaven waiting for him, drawing with crayons. His son was laying somewhere on Tuchanka, covered with dust and grime, bloody, broken and d—  
The agony was too much. His mind shied away from it. The same way his gaze was drawn away from Garrus’ worried-looking reflection in the window, as if by some invisible force.

“Adrien?”Garrus’ quiet inquiry almost wasn’t picked up by the Primarch, too deep in his grief.

“I’m…I’d only wished his men would have followed him to the end…that they’d at least respected him as they died…” He said against the glass, before slowly turning around to face the sniper.  
Garrus didn’t hesitate when he replied. “They did, Shepard…she...Gave him a push in the right direction.”

He realized dimly that not once since he’d returned from Tuchanka bearing the news of Tarquin’s death like a black flag, had he been reprimanded for his lack of proper protocol; he hadn’t even thought about the fact that after he’d faced Victus to call him ‘Primarch’ or ‘Sir’ nor had he been simply called ‘Vakarian’. A part of him didn’t know what to think about that, while another part of him felt hopeful, although he didn’t know what for.  
The news of his son’s bravery almost seemed to be too much for the older Turian. He sagged against the glass, and for a moment Garrus was terrified because he thought that Adrien would fall through the window and into the airless vacuum of space.

“Tarquin…Spirits, Garrus. I’m so proud of him…!” Victus blurted out suddenly, subvocals thick and watery, even worse than when they were in the War Room, veiled and protected by shadows and hushed whispers.

Garrus swallowed thickly while he watched how the newly made Primarch pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting to keep it together.

“Adrien…Maybe we could…Maybe…” Garrus’ didn’t even know what he was really saying at that point. However he was quite sure what he was alluding to, and for a moment thought he’d vomit from the shame and hoped Victus hadn’t picked up on the pheromone change yet.

He glanced guilty towards the Primarch to find himself regarded with a carefully crafted neutral expression; the younger Turian’s insides grew cold.

For a long while the silence was total, only broken by the humming of the ship’s engines and the monotone beeps and thrills from the machines resting under its hull.

“…I think the Commander needs you more than I, Garrus.” Adrien finally said, breaking the horrible silence which had threatened to plunge them both even further into despair’s deep abyss.

Garrus felt a stab of genuine pain that made it feel like his insides grinded together. Did Vicus really think he’d leave him while he was in pain? Did he want him to?

A look in the former General’s direction and he saw Victus face turned into an unreadable mask but with eyes filled with so much and so many emotions that perhaps he didn’t even know what he himself wanted.  
He glanced to the door, then back at Victus. Maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe he didn’t know the man as good as he thought. He had no right to decide what the Primarch wanted or needed. He turned around, started to head for the door, mind in a jumble that he didn’t have the strength of will to try and start to untangle.

The exhaustion had closed in like a hungry animal gnawing at his bones as soon as the rush of adrenaline had faded and all he wanted to do and could think about was to take a shower, grab something to eat and fall asleep.  
Garrus cast a last look over his shoulder at the barely-week old Primarch; he had resumed his earlier gazing of the sea of stars outside, back turned and face hidden; It made Garrus sigh wearly: there was nothing he could do more today except hope that the man got some sleep; that they all needed some.

But before he did that he’d check on Shepard. Spirits he hadn’t like the way she looked as she stormed off in the hangar. His cot down in the battery could wait for him a bit longer.

 

The elevator ride to Shepard’s cabin felt strangely claustrophobic, as if the walls moved closer when he wasn’t looking. Garrus let out a sigh when the doors finally opened and he was presented with Shepard’s cabin doors. The holographic -electronic look projected from it was red. He splayed is mandibles in an expression of confusion. Shepard usually never had her door locked as long as one announced their presence before entering. Worry made him swallow and reach to access his omnitool. A few quick commands was all it took for the lock to turn green. Some sense of normalcy returned at the sight of it even if Shepard was going to give him a piece of her mind for hacking the door. She’d forgive him…hopefully.

The doors parted with a hiss of air and Garrus stepped inside, tried not to think on the fact that he didn’t know what he would say to her. What could he say? Liara had already tried to say what was on everyone’s minds but she hadn’t managed to get through to her, if an Asari—one of the Milky Way’s species considered the best at diplomacy—couldn’t get to her then what hope had Garrus? All he’d ever had was dry wit followed by a too-big mouth and an insane amount of luck. Luck however would be of little use now and he was well aware of that fact.

All previous thoughts vanished the second he saw Jane sit on the bed, hunched over as if she’d aged decades in a matter of hours. She was clean and freshly showered but it did little to take away the morose air that clung around her like a funeral shroud.  
He was by her side on the bed in a heartbeat, arms coming around her on instinct. She leaned into the touch immediately as if cold and needing of the warmth he provided.  
Her voice was soft and hoarse.

“I should have done more.”

“You did enough, Jane.”

“Did I Garrus?” She pressed more fully into him which meant he was at least doing something right he thought and he nuzzled her hair and neck.

“More than anyone.” She grew very still at that and it made him worried that he'd said the wrong things, which wouldn't be surprising since he always seemed to do, he reflected, thinking back on his failed atempt at comforting the Primarch earlier in the evening—hopefully he would have better results with Shepard.

Lost at what to do, he started to stroke her hair, gently running his talons through her strands and scalp, feeling how her weight settled fully into him.  
They had known each other so the amount of time give should have been more than enough for him to learn how to comfort her, only he didn't know simply becase he'd never seen her weak; never seen her break even though it had been dangerously close earlier in the evening.

He knew about her past with Keidan, and couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever let herself be weak—human--with him. If she'd allowed herself that to anyone. He didn't envy her her position; he'd gotten a taste of what it was like as designated Reaper Advisor and everyone could see the result of that.

He was so deep in his thoughts that when EDI's voice suddnely filled the air in Shepard's cabin he jerked almost hard enough to push Shepard out of his arms. He grumbled when Shepard tried to supress a chuckle before replying to their AI with a voice still warm from the almost-laugh.

“Yes, EDI, what is it?”

When the as-of the moment disembodied female voice answered its words were characterized by slight bewilderment.

“Shepard, I just felt inclined to inform you that the Primarch has been pacing outside your quarters from almost half-an hour now. Is a call to security needed?”

Garrus could see how she turned pensive for half a heartbeat before realizaion dawned and any humour the moment might have held evaporated.  
He watched with a heavy chest as she gently untangled herself from his arms, face a professional, neutral mask now fimly in place, shielding any would-be onlookers from the truth like a panorama of mirrors.

“Let him, EDI.” She said simply, voice strong and sure but he knew that they both knew that she dreaded the moment the Primarch would step through her door. But she would face it like she always had. Always did. She had never let fear hinder her. It brought a glimmer of comfort with it—trembling like a candlelight.

A moment later the newly appointed Primarch stepped through the cabin door. Face as tight and closed-off as the human commander's. Mandibles pulled tight, and Garrus couldn't help but wonder if the man would be able to get some sleep. He had been pushing himself ruthlessly the weeks they had served together on Menae before the Normandy's arrival and would no doubt push himself even harder, if Garrus gut were right.

“Commander Shepard.” He nodded in greeting first to her and then to Garrus' slight surprise, him. Adrien held his arms tight behind his rigid back. Shepard straighted herself too though Garrus didn't think that could be possible, she was alredy straight like an icicle.

“Primarch, anything I can do for you?” Perplexion still shone behind her blue eyes, subfused like a slow winking glow beneath a summer pond's surface.

“I should be asking that.” He said, sudden and startingly mellow. Garrus barely noticed when shepard's eyebrows rose almost to her hairline, to busy trying to figure out his former commander's plan.

“I'm not sure I understand, sir?” She said carefully, eyes brifely flickering away from the Primarch and onto Garrus. He could only shrug his shoulders at her, as lost as she was. They'd just have to see what the older turian's crypticness would lead to.

A soft but heavy sigh made them both turn their attention away from each other and back to the turian leader still standning in the doorway.

“My son...” He hesitated for a moment before finding his voice again. “Garrus told me that you helped him when his men almost turned on him. Gave him a chance to reedeem himself in their eyes and see the mission through.” As the Primarch's voice started to tightend at the end Shepard looked away. After a few breaths the he continued. “...Thank you, commander. I... can't tell you how thankful I am for that.”

When Shepard swallowed thickly Garrus was torn down the middle on who he wanted to comfort. Adrien had lost his son but Shepard had been the one to witness his death first-hand. He had literally slipped between her fingertips. Garrus had to repress a shudder at the thought; he didn't know what he'd done if it the roles had been reversed.

“Please don't thank me, Sir. Maybe if I hadn't said anything...Maybe if I had been the one to climb onto the bomb and disarm it then maybe he would stand before you know, well and alive and here...”

Before Garrus could rebuke her or scold her, Victus was already down the stairs and standing before her.

“Don't Commander. My son did what he had to, as did you. You did more than what was asked of you, you had no obligation to do anything for him other than to disarm that bomb. I do not hold you accountable for what happned to Tarquin. I never will.”

Before Shepard could do anything the Primarch was already sliding his arms around her in an embrace . Hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around his cowl.  
They stood there in the middle of the room, flanked by the couch and the armchairs. A part of Garrus' mind that still functioned thought that they looked good together. _Really_ good.

As soon as that thought had appeared he rebuked himself for it, if only half-heartedly. He shook his head and looked on as the pair pulled away. But the surprises weren't over.

They had parted, save for one of Adrien's hands still cradeling Shepard's shoulder, who looked slight and delicate under the large, three-taloned hand. He could hear the sub-vocals rumbling from the Primarch, surprise and intruge mixing together as he leaned down to brifely rest his nose against the top of the blonde woman's head. Garrus could make out the inhales and echales from were he was sitting perached on the bed.

“ _Ahem_.” This time it was Shepard who broke the unexpetced spell. Her troat clearing jolted the larger, taller turian, enough for him to take a step back from her while casting an brife shocked, almost ashamed look Garrus' way.

All three fell into an awkward silence for a while, no one present being able to look at the othet two for long. Garrus figured that anything but the crushing grief was preferable, even if he could have done without the flushing heat of his neck.  
The awkwardness passed as soon as the former General cleared his own troat; Sub-vocals reigned in and voice once more proferssonal and calm.

“You completed your misson Commander and our agreement still stands; Earth shall have its fleet, and when the time comes to retake it, we will be there.”

“Thank you, Primarch.” She said, having slipped back into her Commander persona just as seamlessly as Adrien had.

“No, Shepard, thank _you_.” Embers of the wamrth from before slipped back seemingly without him noticing or caring. “Well, I won't keep you any longer. Good night, Commander, Vakarian.” He nodded in turn to them both once more before turning around and like that was gone.

For a while they didn't say anything, to occupied with their thoughts to give voice to them. Garrus pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them just as he heard his girlfriend mutter out.  
“He smelled my hair. Why did he smell my hair?” She turned around and faced Garrus with one of the most perplexed looks he'd ever seen on her. He tried not to laugh but failed. It only got worse when she sighed and put her hands on her hips in aggravation.

“Instead of sitting there snickering to yourself like a Batarian that is winning poker, how about you actually tell me what is going on, since you seem to know.”

Garrus forced himself to become serious, though it was a hard fought battle. Sometime he wondered how human's could be considerd apex predators on their home planet, with their dull senses comapred to turians and the other council and none-council species. Then he rememberd Shepard and knew how.

“Alright, but come here first.” He said with a laugh and reached out to her. She obliged and re-joined him on the bed. They moved so they were face-to-face, him stroking her shoulders before he spoke, silently telling himself that it wasn't to buy himself time.

“First things first: He wants you, Jane.” He didn't giver her time to give words to her surprise and continued, not with no small amount of smugness present. “And I know that he wants me, too. No doubts about it.”

“And that means what?” She said, still clueless. She reached out with a hand to cup one of his mandibles. He covered the hand she had on him with his own.

“Dosen't need to mean much, nothing in fact, if you don't want it to.” He watched as she worried her bottom lip excessively; blue gaze averting from his and onto the fish tank for a moment before she looked back on him.

“And if I want it to mean something?” She said softly.

Unexpected relief surged into him like a fine wine. He wouldn't lie and say that he didn't enjoy Victus' company: The as-of now Primarch was a very attentive and good bedmate, but he loved Shepard and if it was a choice between her and Victus, he'd chose her. Still, he wouldn't lie and say that it didn't surprise and please him that she was willing to invite Adrien to their bed.

“Then we could go as far as you'd want and is comfortable with. No pressure.”

She smiled at that. “I may have had one or two fantazies about you and...someone else.” She said, a bit of redness flushing into her face, even though he knew that she wasn't a virgin or and angel by any means, having grown up on the streets of an Earth city as a child and inlisting into the Army as soon as she was of legal age.

Garrus snorted. “Please don't tell me it it was Thane?” He said in a mock theatrical tone of dismay. She laughed and slapped him playfully on the shoulder before going serious.

“So how do we...do it. Do we just ask if he wants to have a threesome or what?” She said with a one-shouldered shrug. “Is there some kidn of turian ritual I need to follow?”

“Not really, just that asking him in public would be considered very rude.” He pointed out , though going by her expression saw that it wasn't helping.

“Like I would do that. Not in public got it, so when we're alone...I...”

Garrus splayed his mandibles wide. “And here I thought your social skills were better than your dancing. We're doomed.” He said with a mock sigh and slumping shoulders, watched as her eyes narrowed.

“Don't make me airlock your ass, Vakarian.” She said with a badly held back smile and a finger pointed at him as if it had been one of her guns. “Any ideas?”

Garrus hummed as he let his fast mind take over. “Hm. I think hinting at him is better with you than just out-right asking him. I know for a fact that he's never been with a human before—We had to have _something_ to talk about while trying to sleep with Reapers stomping and squashing stuff at night—but he might refuse out of hesitation because he knows we're together and don't want to risk coming between us."

“Question; how do I hint? And don't tell me I should do what I did with you; I doubt he's had time to try his 'Reach and Flexibillity' with someone.” Now it was her turn to sound smug. Garrus groaned-

“You're never going to let that go, are you?”

She shook her head with a smile. “Never.”

“That's evil, Jane. Whatever, usally when turians wants to hint at intrest it will be through pheromones or sub-vocals, which wouldn't be to much help for you since you don't emmit either one of those. Or at least not the kind he'd pick up on immediately. So if you want to show intrest the safest way would simply be to show intrest in him and touch him, discreetly of course. Even just leaning into his personal space should give him an hint.”

Shepard rolled her eyes. “'Should give him a hint'? Garrus, you're just tangling the knots even more together, some examples please?...And stop looking so smug, damnit.” She added as soon as she became aware of his expression.

“Fine. His wrists are free game. His waist is a little bold but it will get your point across if everything else fails, and no, Shepard; I can see what you're thinking: the fringe is a no-no for you right now.” He said and the cat-like smirk that had been working its way onto her face fell off.

“Why not?” She said, frowing.

 

“It would be like touching a human females breasts without premission; only when he's expressed desire to be touched verbally or physically is it alright to touch them, that goes for the spot under the fringe and the neck too, please don't forget this.” He knew she wouldn't but he'd be rather safe than sorry, if only because Adrien was considered a close friend and he didn't want any mistakes to happen that could ruin it.

“No fringe or neck, waist is okay but only if I feel he really dosen't get it. Alright, anything else?” She said, eyes going wide as Garrus gently but firmly pushed her down onto the matress with his full, imposing wheight on her.

“You seem to be a little bit lacking in the seduction department, my Commander,” he lowered his voice into the soft, purr-like rumbling she liked. And watched as her pupils dilated almost immediately . Still she had enough sense left to rib him severly.

“Says the turian who tried to seduce his Commander with bad wine and a pletora of knowledge credited to porno and old, sappy romantic human flicks.” She said with a cruved smiled and a arched eyebrow.

Garrus effectively shut her up by slamming his mouth to hers.


End file.
